You and I
by Rhiannon Uerch Llewelyn
Summary: Harry, flying with you, taunting you and fighting you, there’s nothing like it in the world. With you I am fire, burning ice all that I am at your feet. MM


In this fic I'm taking into account all the books and the movies that are available to the public.

AN) this fic is a companion piece to "We Are" and the "Father" series, being, again, Draco's thoughts, this time regarding a certain forever-rumpled Gryffindor, though this time they are far more carnal in their nature… wink

WARNING: Male on male sex described! You don't like then hit the **BACK** button! (And then go knock yourself out in cloistered pity) smirk

Disclaimer: Do I look like JKR? (Checks out self in the mirror: really short dark brown hair, 5'9, long legs, rather lithe build and snug black leather pants with zips up the sides.) Nope! (Wipes brow dry of nervous sweat & hides "JKR" labeled Polyjuice flask in a zippered hip pocket)

cough

You heard nothing…  
I don't exist…

----

By the way, the poems at the beginning & end of this fic are MINE! If I catch anyone using them without permission… I'll do an Umbridge/Draco/Harry fic. Need I say more? I fucking hope not… (Because I'd have to gouge my brain out to write it.) Ugh… .

That said… enjoy!

* * *

You and I

You are my anger and my pain,  
My fear and my jealousy.  
Fighting you I lose myself,  
Become more than I am and less.  
You cement the darkness inside me,  
Your light falling—into shadow.

Flying with you, taunting you and fighting you, there's nothing like it in the world. With you I am fire, burning ice; all that I am at your feet.

Oh gods, I want to own you, take your body and your soul: make you mine. I am nothing without you, a pile of tinder dry wood with no hint of spark. Consume me as you always do but utterly, obliterate me as if I was nothing… make me cease to be. Hate me as I love you and love me, as I hate you: for you do, as I do… as we do

You are my mirror, my other self. Fuck me 'til I no longer know the difference.

I want your hands in my hair: clenched tight, dragging my head back for your pleasure. Bite my throat, lick my neck; savor me as your Last Supper. Undress me, strip me, rape me of my swathed illusion, my façade of clothed flesh: my skin at your mercy, every move your command. Unshroud my body, this marble self; take me as your own and paint my white with streaks of red, rake your nails down this living canvas; mark me, brand me, do as you were meant: rend me as only you can. Take me in your mouth as sacred Host, worship me; run your tongue up my length, make me hard. I want to slide by your lips like liqueur; drink me as some living wine. Thrust in me like a sword its sheath; to the hilt, buried deep; rough and hard, smooth and sweet. I want to feel you inside me, like a song, like a prayer: so glorious and full—finally complete.

Make me writhe at your touch, break me. Make me scream, forget myself; my name nothing—I am replete.

Fuck!

Such a wanton dream

* * *

Harry—bound of hidden darkness: you are my phantom shadow, my liquid dream. I want to own you, love you, learn your flesh as my own. Your skin new milk, fresh poured; such deceptive glove of innocence, shroud of shifting flesh, silken skin. Yet… your scar—a mystery. Hair of ink, stained darkness: thick as night, mussed as sin.

Hells, I want to run my hands through your spun-dark mess, feel the cool-warm strands slip through my fingers like forgotten dreams. I want to learn your skull with gentle fingers, ease your pain and sooth your mind; feel your body relax with my touch. Light my darkness as I sooth yours.

Harry—breathe my name, my _first_ name; not in anger, not in hate. A whisper—as in a dream I wait.

Gods, I want to hear you moan your pleasure; see you close your eyes and shiver, my fingers trailing down your naked spine from your tender nape; stroking flesh and nerves therein. I want to possess you, make you burn: arch your back in surrendered agony, crying out in damned ecstasy; sinuous play of muscles 'neath my searching hands: flex, contract, supple as water: all 'neath warm gold skin.

Your body, so beautiful: compact, strong: a living, endless surprise.

Such eyes… of changing green: hidden forests, fresh new leaves; light with laughter, dark with anger, but what of passion? I wish I knew… Please, see me not as me, but myself. I am not all you think you see.

On the bed you lie, sprawled on your stomach before me: languid, like a figure poured: lax stillness—alive. Arms lying loose, muscles relaxed, hands splayed among mussed sheets, fingers stroking cool cotton, clenching as if to anchor your soul.

Tender skinned, soft as butter, hard as steel… though warm. A Rodin, you are a precious thing: graceful, lithe, awkward; how can I want you so? Kneeling behind you between your spread legs, our knees touch and you shift so I am snug between them. Your skin, not quite pale as my own: creamy, a living warmed meringue. A dusting of fine dark hairs on strong calves and thighs, sweeping up to the swell of muscled buttocks; ankles supple and feet rough with hard use.

Like a map, I want to know you.

Upright, with both hands I reach behind me, grasping your feet and massaging deeply, your moan a restful response. Unknotting weary tightness and strained tendons, my nails skim the length of your feet, sliding to weary ankles, lightly stroking the bones. Leaving off to knead the length of corded calves: massaging deeply, loosening slowly; reaching your knees, such strained hinges, a knowing caress and teasing tickle and you tighten your legs around my own. Your thighs, with Quidditch so very strong, my fingers moving deep and thorough, working out tension and stress, teasing the back and kneading the front, trailing with gentle strokes across and up the satin skin of your inner thighs. Your muscles ripple in response and your legs loosen…widen, hips thrusting down, pushing your erection into the sheets beneath you as you seek relief from my teasing. Your arms tense, fisting the sheets within your grasp as your breathing quickens, sweat slicking your skin.

I lunge foreword, hands grasping your biceps, sliding off to land among the sheets by your armpits, carrying my weight as I crouch above you. Nose buried in the silken mess of your hair I inhale your scent, soft and woodsy; like freshly cut grass after a cool spring rain—soothing… so soothing

Shifting backwards I run my tongue down your spine, laving dimples nestled at the small of your back, kissing open mouthed the down dusted flesh therein: tongue lingering, soothing your fire—stoking my own. My hands move to caress your shoulders, leaving off to trail as living feathers down your shoulder blades, tracing your ribs and griping your hips, fingers lightly stroking your tummy. Your moans grow louder as a shudder wracks your body, goosebumps rippling across your naked flesh.

Gods! I need your warmth around me, silken glide of velvet depths a sheath forbidden yet sacred. Leaving off my pleasured search I summon a vial of scented oil, slicking my hands for better things…

Leaning down with fingertips grazing your hips, I run my tongue along one muscled buttock, finally sliding between to claim your heat, silken darkness: tight muscles, hidden depths. You jerk in response to a teasing lick, pulling your right leg up near your chest, hips wide; a lazy invitation as you push your face into the mussed sheets, a needy whine escaping your lips. In acquiesce to your request my hands glide between your thighs, the left to slick your entrance, the right trailing up your angled thigh to grasp your hip; squeezing hard, gripping firm, then letting go

Moan your want; take me in! All of me—

Liquid sheath of a cherished blade: rippling, supple—ready. Sliding in I take you, touch your soul and watch your face as you arch up against me: shoulders brushing my chest, our fingers twined, arms braced firm. Your head thrown back against my neck, strands of hair tickling my ear as a bead of sweat drips off to hang for a precious moment against my burning skin. It slides down to rest against the chain around my neck, but a gentle glimmer among woven icy gold. The locket hanging from it brushes against your spine, its precious cold an icy shock to your heated flesh as a gasp escapes your lips and my name falls as if from a breath of wind; a whisper, as if in prayer.

"Draco—"

"Hhhuuhh!"

"I love you—"

Time stretched, suspended, as we move together, thrusting deep and pushing back, breathing heavy and ragged; a dance never-ending. Sweat drips off searing flesh, hands loosening, gliding over supple skin and nails scoring trails of fire. You writhe in ecstasy beneath me, our bodies twined as one and I feel at peace, whole: as never else—forever. Such sated pained release; we fall together into oblivion, tangled and still joined as one as our breathing slows into the night.

All is… as it should be, from the first. Before— everything…

* * *

In longing I weaken, uncertain.  
In hate I despise and am sure.  
To love without fear but a dream--

* * *

(Melts into puddle of goo on the computer chair, finds self slowly dripping off the edges onto the floor.) My god I LOVE this piece! Reading it I feel thoroughly sated, relaxed as if I'd just had a serious full body massage with scented oils in front of a roaring fire with spheres of crystals arrayed around us in the flickering light…

(Breaks off monologue with huge yawn, rolls off chair and lands on the ground with a rude thump… curls up in contentment, thick tail draped softly over nose, falling to sleeeeeep…)

Snoring softly

Do send me your comments, thoughts and suggestions. Everything helps us authors better our writing.

snicker

(I love doing this…)


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